The Man of Otherwise Good Character Who Loves Watching Little Boys Get Tortured, Beaten and Raped – Sodom, Gomorrah, Civility and the Civil Libertarians in a World Gone Mad

 

 

In August 1998 a man named Russell Grenning featured prominently in the report of an inquiry commissioned by Queensland’s then corruption watchdog the Criminal Justice Commission (CJC).

The CJC commissioned inquiry, later to become commonly known as the Kimmins Inquiry, was an investigation into allegations a journalist named Michael Ware – later to become a world renowned war correspondent – had made about  misconduct in the investigation of paedophilia, or pedopnilia as Justice Kimmins from time to time was wont to call it.

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In a case of life imitating art, or perhaps being careful what you wish for ‘cos you just might get it, the inquiry itself was the classic example of misconduct in the investigation of paedophilia/pnilia, or perhaps more correctly misconduct in the investigation of misconduct in the investigation of paedophilia/pnilia.

Either way though it was a crock, and ended up being second only on the red hot scale of rigged inquiries and inquisitions to the National Hotel Inquiry conducted by ‘Sir’ Harold Talbot Gibbs in the early to mid 1960’s.

Just in case you’ve forgotten or didn’t know, that was the inquiry that concluded with the man who was later to become Chief Justice of the High Court finding no evidence of any police corruption whatsoever in Queensland, a finding that was unceremoniously demolished two decades later by Tony Fitzgerald who found that corruption was in fact rampant at the time, although for reasons of his own Fitzy exonerated Gibbs from any blame for being dead, dumb and blind throughout the hearings.

One of Fitzgerald’s then close mates wasn’t so kind to Gibbs however. This is what Anthony Hunter Morris QC – aka Tony Morris, Tony Tony Tone or the QC Pie – had to say on the topic of top-level judicial incompetence (or worse):

The Gibbs Inquiry was focussed on prostitution which was allegedly occurring, with police protection, at the National Hotel in Brisbane. The Inquiry was an abject failure. At the time, Sir Harry Gibbs was unkindly referred to as the only man in Queensland who could not find a tart at the National Hotel.

Gough Whitlam – who has his own reasons for not being a great fan of the late Justice Gibbs – has observed that an extraordinary phenomenon occurred in Queensland in a little over twenty years. The results of the Gibbs Inquiry suggested that police corruption was entirely absent from this State; yet, in just twenty years, the situation had deteriorated to the point that the Fitzgerald Inquiry was able to identify police corruption throughout the State, from the highest ranks of the Police Force down. In another speech, Whitlam was less subtle, saying: “… police corruption continued to have immunity as a result of the incompetence of Sir Harry Gibbs”.

For once in his life surprisingly Morris was actually spot on, but I guess I once backed the winner of a Melbourne Cup too – Saintly it was, 1996, only two decades ago which isn’t a bad effort – so we all get it right occasionally.

All of us except Kimmins that is. He was a mile of beam, and in my view very deliberately so, and exonerated every single person except the journalist Michael Ware, who he tied to a stake, doused in DDT and set alight with a flame thrower. Kimmins wasn’t content just to shoot the messenger, he bloody napalmed him.

One of the many – nay, every – areas that he was wrong in were the allegations about a senior public servant named Russell Grenning, who police had detected receiving child porn material from known distributors of the devil’s fancy in Victoria, but had decided not to prosecute due to ‘political reasons’, they being predominantly that Grenning was a mate of the Premier and the Police Minister, and they in turn were mates with the Police Commissioner, and all of the bastards were as crooked as Skippy the Bush Kangaroo’s sticks and protectors of pedophiles to boot.

This is what Kimmins made of Grenning’s guilt or otherwise about being a player in a child porn ring, and if after reading it you become absolutely bewildered by the abundant contradictions in the Judge’s reasoning then rest assured you’re not alone, and remember that Kimmins almost ran Gibbs’ National Hotel Inquiry to a dead heat in the Red Hot and Crooked Cup.

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That was 1998.

Fast forward seven years and now it’s 2005 and somehow Russell Grenning – a pervert who anyone with half a brain reading the Kimmins report can work out was as guilty as sin of receiving kiddy porn sent to him in the post by his pedo ring mates – has somehow become the Principal Adviser Corporate Relations for the Queensland Law Society.

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Before you start asking yourself the obvious question – WTF?! – let me remind you that Paul ‘Daphnis’ De Jersey was the Chief Justice of Queensland at the time. Let me also touch my nose, wink, point you to a 2006 polemic Grenning wrote about Daphnis for the Law Society Journal (above) and say judge, judge, twink, twink, and then say no more.

The year before his paean to Paul was published Grenning had written an equally unbalanced devotion to a newly appointed Judge of the Queensland District and Children’s Court named Ian Dearden, who in the decades prior to his appointment to the bench has been a high-profile leader of the Queensland Council for Civil Liberties.

Quite oddly though, Grenning’s hagiographical ode to Dearden was accompanied by this decidedly queer cartoon illustration.

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Remember the questions we raised about that particular organisation last week? Mmmm. Nudge, nudge, wink …….

Later in 2006 Judge Ian Dearden shot to presumably unwanted prominence when t Courier-Mail revealed on its front page that Dearden had sentenced a 29 year-old school teacher who had filmed himself raping a 14-year-old student that he had assiduously groomed and abused to a suspended jail sentence, despite uncontested evidence having been presented to the court showing that the rapist had threatened serious harm to his child victim if she dared to give evidence against him about his heinous crimes.

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Now here’s where it get’s weird Bluebeard, for within hours of  the story appearing on the front page of Queensland’s daily fish and chips wrapper the Law Society took the unprecedented step of issuing a press release about the matter.

The release was allegedly a statement made by the President of the Law Society – an insignificant Cairns based lawyer named Joe Pinder, who coincidentally the very next year found himself appointed to the Magistrate’s bench – but it had Grenning’s fingerprints all over it and he didn’t try to hide the fact, nominating himself rather than President Pinder as the point of contact for all media inquiries.

 

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Now why was the Queensland Law Society going taking up a bat with the media over a Judge’s decision, and why did they do it so quickly, before even a quick executive teleconference could be arranged to work out the official QLS position on the matter?

It’s a good question isn’t it, a really good one, but given my repeated brushes with the oppressive national uniform Defamation Laws slavishly adopted by the State of Queensland I simply ask the questions these days rather than answer them, so you’ll have to work that one out for yourself.

The love didn’t last though.

A couple of years later the child porn allegations that has been swirling around Grenning for the better part of 3 decades resurfaced, and this the evidence wasn’t old envelopes but instead his hard drive, and you’d have to guess that those in charge of the law whose arses he had so lavishly licked must have had an inside tip for just before multiple charges were laid against their hitherto golden haired boy the QLS suddenly found him surplus to their requirements, and made Grenning redundant.

Pockets full of severance pay the confidante of judges and chief justices jumped over to a job as chief promoter for a Liberal Senator named Sue Boyce, but it didn’t last long because the charges were laid, he got sacked (they pretended he resigned) and within a year he was in the District Court pleading guilty to a single count of possessing child exploitation material.

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How the f*ck Grenning was allowed to nod his head to just one minor count when in fact he was admitting to possessing 4297 images and 99 actual movies of children – BABIES! – between the ages of birth and six being sadistically raped and tortured is both anyone’s guess, and one of Queensland’s greatest unexposed scandals.

This was depraved, vile, demonic child porn of the most wicked kind.

Little boys ranging in age from babies to six-year-old’s being f*cked, sucked, whipped and tortured. Tiny wee kids being used as sexual playthings by grown men, and treated like allied POW’s in the Japanese Death Camps in World War Two.

I’ve just become a grandfather.

My daughter’s son is the same age as some of the boys in Greening’s movies who are being anally raped by men with 10 inch dicks.

This is what my grandson looks like.

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One charge?

This f*cker Grenning had just short of 100 full-length movies showing kids like mine being subjected to the most horrific form of rape and torture imaginable. How can he only have faced one charge? It’s an absolute disgrace, a crime against decency and without any doubt an absolute perversion of the law.

Want to know an even bigger disgrace?

A High Court Judge gave this evil sub-human Grenning a character reference.

I kid you not.

It was Michael Kirby. The famous Civil Libertarian. Judge Ian Dearden’s comrade and friend. The highest judicial officer in the land.

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High Court Justice Michael Kirby swore that the man who got his kicks out of pulling himself while watching little kids like my grandson get raped was ‘of otherwise good character’.

Otherwise?

What f*cking otherwise?

Grenning was and is a monster. He’s responsible for little kids suffering the horrors of the holocaust wrought upon them by the hounds from hell. Grenning is a hound from hell, and so is every single one of his supporters are than his Mum and Dad.

Michael Kirby is a hound from hell. A civil libertarian my arse.  How did Kirby even know Grenning anyway? No-one asked that question did they? They might not want to hear the answer I guess.

Russell Grenning was sentenced to 12 months in prison. The last 9 months of the sentence was suspended. He only had to serve 3 months in jail.

The little boys in his videos were sentenced to life in hell, their cards marked ‘never be released’.

The Queensland Law Society failed to issue a media release.

And the wolves still walk around wearing the sheep’s clothes and feasting on lambs.

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Forget All the Spin and Make no Mistake – Pacquiao v Horn’s the Biggest Mismatch Since Eve Took on Sin and the Snake

Although I haven’t met him personally I’m told by a reputable source (my Dad, who used to be Lord Mayor Graham Quirke’ s driver and has known his cousin the Hornet for years, since way back before he was a boxer) that Jeff Horn is a lovely bloke, and from what I’ve seen of the bloke there’s no reason not to believe him. Horn’s been a fine ambassador for both Brisvegas and for boxing, and the fighter’s conduct during his career has brought great credit to himself, his city and his sport.

Horn’s what they call in the boxing world a stand up guy, one of that rare breed of upright and honest men who you find from time to time swimming in straight lines through pools full of bloodthirsty barracudas and man-eating sharks. The sort of fella that history tells us is always the first picked by the piranha for the first course of their sumptuous Sunday feast, the easy catch the fiendish fish call entree.

Amid all the hoopla and hype of a prize fight promotion, sitting in a comfortable seat at Suncorp Stadium with your senses dulled by the warmth of the soft Vegas sun, it’s easy to forget but this ain’t a gentle Sunday arvo outing to the opera or to watch Eddie Sheeran warble.

We’re on our way to the Colosseum to watch a blood sport. Sixty thousand people crowded around a small 6m x 6m square of canvas staring in rapture at two men inside fighting a metaphorical – and sometimes, far more often than palatable, actual – battle to the death.

Manners count for nothing inside the square. Nice guys always run last.

Horne’s decency is a knock in a knock em down war, but it’s not the ultimate reason that he faces his inevitable downfall.

That reason’s class, and it’s written in the numbers.

Boxing is like horse racing no matter how impressive your win in an Ipswich maiden might be,  is the Melbourne Cup might still as well be a race run in Mars hypure mathematics, the numbers never lie. It’s the statistics that always tell the true tale of the tape. William Stubbs once famously told us that

the roots of the present lie deep in the past, and nothing in the past is dead to the man who would learn how the present comes to be what it is

And ain’t that the truth?

It’s a truth the reporters in our mainstream press appear to have overlooked, although truth be known they are simply in the main ignorant sloths who wouldn’t know the difference between an uppercut and the IBF, or an overhand right and the WBO. You really can’t blame them for not knowing something that they don’t, unless of course you still hold to that old belief that journalism is about uncovering facts, and then like me you might go digging and take a look at the roots.

Let’s talk class.

All but one of the fighters Pacquiao has faced up against in has past 5 fights have been world title belt holders. Between them they have collectively held more than 20 different world championships at given times, and the five including the bloke who had yet to win a title had fought an aggregate of 95 world championship bouts.

The sum total of world titles held at any time by Jeff Horn’s past five opponents is zero. Nil, zip, nada, none.

The bloke who knocked Horne down two fights ago before the Hornet climbed off the canvas and put him away, a German named Rico Mueller who is ranked 87th in the world in the welterweight ranks, fought a bloke with an 80% losing rate – 96 fights for 77 losses – in his next outing in the ring. Just four fights before taking on the Hornet our boy Horne’s last opponent Ali Funeka had been knocked out by a tomato can with who had lost or drawn 10 of his 19 career fights.

Two fights ago Manny Pacquiao took on a boxer of high repute named Timothy ‘the Desert Storm’ Bradley, a former soldier who has held five world titles throughout his career. Prior to his encounter with the Desert Storm the Pac-Man had gone the full twelve rounds with Floyd Mayweather, the 11 time world title holder quite rightly regarded as the greatest fighter of his generation, and immediately afterward he faced up to and beat Jessie Vargas, a three title holder who’s only previous loss was to none other than the Desert Storm.

Is a picture starting to form?

Let’s dig down a sub-strata and look at the numbers the self-interested promoters and the poorly informed press aren’t telling you.

Horne’s last 5 opponents in the ring had a collective record of 142 fights for 18 defeats, meaning that the blokes he had beaten had between them lost 1 in 8 of their career fights, none of them in the top grade.

Conversely the past 5 punchers that Pacquiao took on had a combined record of 162 bouts with only two losses, each of them fought in the highest echelon of the sport in title fights or qualifiers, a stat of less than 1 loss per 80 bouts, all of them against each other in the inner circle of the elite ranks of the sport.

Dig even further down and the picture becomes even more plain.

Let’s have a look at the Pac-Man and the Horner’s previous five opponents and examine the combined records of the previous five opponents that they had fought, and once more you need to view the number through the lens that Horne’s opponents had never fought for a title fight whereas Pacquiao’s all had.

Remember, we are looking at the combined records of the pugs that each of today’s title bout’s contenders last 5 opponents had faced up against. This is how it reads

Horne: 452 – 215

Pacquiao: 671 – 55

And the story it tells is that you’ve all been conned by a posse of promoters out to make a fast buck and then triple it, and a compliant press who haven’t got a clue.

Jeff Horne’s been fighting tomato cans, and getting knocked down or drawn into deep trouble by a couple of them.

Manny Pacquiao’s been fighting champions and, with the exception of the best pound for pound fighter walking the earth, been putting them away.

The reality of today’s fight is that it’s an Ipswich maiden winner facing up against Phar Lap in the Melbourne Cup.  Short of incredible bad luck or horrific injury the Pac-Man can’t possibly lose and Horne simply can’t win, and don’t you worry about that.

So set aside your anticipation punters and simple enjoy your lazy day out in the sun as entertainment, and let’s all just hope that our boy doesn’t get hurt.

The truth might hurt Hornet fans.

But Manny Pacquiao hurts more.

 

It’s a Long Way to the Top When Your Trainer’s are Rudd and Rolf

Gettin’ robbed, Gettin’ stoned
Gettin’ beat up, Broken boned
Gettin’ had, Gettin’ took
I tell you folks, It’s harder than it looks
It’s a long way to the top …… if you’re trainers are Rudd and Rolf

 

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Manny Pacquiao’s trainer Freddie Roach (above) and a bloke who you can bet your house he wished didn’t looks like him (below)

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And Jeff Horne’s trainer Glenn Rushton (above), and  back in the day when he was banging on the drum for Acca Dacca (below)

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The Greatest Certainty Ever to Set Four Hooves on the Sunny Coast Sand – Archie Goes the Early Spruik and Gives You the Tip on How to Achieve Wealth, Happiness and Success by C.O.B. Saturday Arvo

They saddle you up, take you to town, better look out when he comes to town ….

Wanna get rich this weekend?

Then back Acatour to win the Sunshine Coast Guineas on Saturday afternoon.

Race 8, Number 1.

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Its an absolute moral. A pea, a bird, a sure thing, a lay down misere.

Just like the concert tours by the formulaic yet furiously entertaining rockers that it’s named after, Acatour is a sure fire winner and a guaranteed money spinner.

The only thing that can beat it is bad luck.

There won’t be any, so get Thunderstruck.

You’ve been told.

See you on the beach in Rio.

I’ll be the bloke in the Geebung Rocks t-shirt with a naked Jennifer Lopez sun baking by my side.

The bead twirler will be the sheila with all the diamonds holding a knife in her hand.

The mug punters who refused to cop the tip will be the ones still running around in the rain at the failed Eagle Farm track and trying not to drown when they fall into the divots.

As they say in the classics, and as I often say to Jenny Lo – GET ON!

Jenny always replies ‘Yes Papi’. So should you.

A quick quiz before I go.

Q: Who was it that said being a Grandpa made you feel old?

A: The bloke who didn’t back Acatour.

Take the tip

 

 

 

When We Were Kings – The Rock Guru and Footy God of Geebung Reflects About the Days When the World Was Wide and Digger-Bred Decency Ruled It – Alternatively, a True-Life Tale About How Jesus Was Just a Boy From the Bung

The old black and white Geebung Magpies colors run deep in a Bunger boy’s blood; so does the notion that there’s black and there’s white and we all swim like salmon in between

I recently recounted to Archie a brief version of the premiership-winning Geebung Primary School Grade 7 Australian Rules Team’s season, as coached under Bamford, J, the greatest school teacher that ever lived.

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(eds note: and the sexiest)

I’ll be quick in reminding you now.

Old Bamford made us play dead against our two main rivals, the toffs over at Aspley and Aspley East. (Interestingly, those 2 teams contained the kids of 2 of the doctors who drove every day over to the Geebung Clinic to treat us – Balthes, Blair-West and Claxton – though I can’t remember which 2).

Bamford let those Aspley buggers thrash us through all the fixtures of the season. He’d do things like put OUR MATE A DISABLED KID at Centre-Half-Forward, (you know why that’s cool but quirky), or not play some better players.

Everyone thought Bamford was a lunatic (eds note: he was, but then so is the rock star writing this), even the parents all got quite upset, but come the finals he let us play our real hand and then we absolutely steamrolled everybody.

Fucking hell it was good fun. I’ll never forget it. It nearly killed me having to delay gratification like that for a whole season, but then to eventually be able to let the Geebung pig out and run riot on the kids from the flasher part of 4034 – priceless!!!

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The pow-wow before the game

I love how seriously we took it.  Even if it really didn’t matter – at that moment, it mattered – the adults didn’t treat us as morons and invested us with a bit of responsibility. Personally, I loved that.

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And it was all for one and one for all – look at little OTHER KID WITH DISABILITY there, soaking it all up, lucky to be alive, and would probably would not survive a tackle, but he got a run, and we all looked out for him. How good is that? ….. and watch out for how happy he is in the winning photo.

Macca and I were co-captains and broke the crepe paper in unison. He looks like a steeled and supremely-ready fighting unit. I look like a clumsy freshly-born foal, supremely unready foranything whatsoever – a bellwether for my adult life.

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KC and Wardy, the grade seven spunks, watch on. The guy in blue-collar is a very cool dude who is my fave man in the world.

Leaving the field victorious over Aspley-East

Until this GF these toffs from across the tracks had been undefeated. But old Bamford had been foxing, as they were soon to discover.

Just look at the faces on these kids – over the moon…..except me…possibly because I seem to have no pants on, but more likely because I was a worrier, and was just relieved to get the job done.

 

A ​joyous win for ​the Bungers!

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This is where I’m happy to ​look back with rose-coloured specs on our time at that school.​ I’ve banged on a bit about this to Archie already. In some quarters at our primary school, and down the road at WZAFC, I got taught very fucking hard and very fucking fast that it’s everyone’s job to look out for everyone else – a lesson I definitely did not get taught at my high school, nor by my university. ​You guys may not have had the same experience but I can guarantee you this was mine.

You know that ​top hollow ​bit of your chest, ​right next to the shoulder joint​, j​ust under the ​collar-bone​ , above the top ribAs a kid, ​I got a few pointed adult index fingers poked in that chesty area with a some force – it was the “learning” area. Maybe it’s not the best delivery method, but I got the message when this was applied.

Bamford (a champion teacher) was one who did this. He took me aside more than once, poked me in that “learning area”, and told me in no uncertain terms that it’s my job to make sure everyone is looking out for the likes of THE 2 DISABLED KIDS. Fleming (another champion teacher) also laid this on me.

That was the message that went out to more than just me, and I have to say, I ate it up. It still sits irrevocably encoded in my now-addled middle-aged brainbox (eds note: I told him those pills with the smiley faces on them wouldn’t be good for him in the long run. The wanker never would listen. It’s why he hit the cricket ball through the Principal’s window when we were in Grade 6. Or why I told the Principal it was him anyway).

The flow chart in my grey matter has a massive over-riding arrow that keeps pointing back to it.

OLD FRIEND, I know next to nothing about you as an adult but I’ve learnt a bit about Archie lately through his writings. Obviously, he’s a knob (eds note: the author of this piece has always been a c*nt, and jealous of my success with the sheilas) but I feel enormous pride welling up in my “learning area” when I see his ferocious sense of social justice.

Archie boy, I tip my lid to you – I don’t know where you got it from – me, I learnt my lessons in 4034 (eds note: he f*cked off to the inner city to become a rock star long before I had to move out of the Geebung Polo Club so that I could claim two doles)

As already referenced above, I actually appreciated being invested with such responsibility as a tacker – the adults were taking me seriously – I was given an environment early on where I could practice this and fail, and learn how to do it better. That’s pretty cool…innit? ​…..and look at THE 2 KIDS WITH DISABILITIES ​in this photo – they could not be ​bloody ​prouder  of what they have achieved and been part of​.

(eds note: while I agree with the spandex pant wearing clown’s analysis, I must point out that boys from Geebung who didn’t piss off to Pommy Land so they could play at Wembley don’t say ‘innit’)

​In footy terms, they couldn’t get a kick out of a damaged power cable if they were holding it with 2 wet hands, ​but they were totally and utterly part of it. I’m getting all teary just looking at it.

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This photo ​above, ​represents my Geebung.

C’mon you two. This is fucking cool isn’t it?

Total and utter mongs …look at the state of all of us. A bunch of dickheads (eds note: speak for yourself you bare torsoed drummer boy) who put their brains and muscles together as one – OLD MATE do you remember this???

In this photo, I also give you KC again, Swan Lake, and Sutho. Babes one and all. And ​then in the front ​there’s Bozo, the cracker of a kid from grade 6 whose dad was a War Vet with PTSD, here he was helping us make merry – great kid​​.

​Finally, the Mr. Holland-designed Geebung logo​, for what it’s worth.

Archie – this should be normal. Life should be like this.

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Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned – I Sodomised a Seven Year Old Boy, Ripped His Anus Open and Ruined His Life – Promise You Won’t Tell Though – Terry O’Gorman Says You’ll Be Breaching My Civil Liberties if You Snitch

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There’s a significant social benefit to be gained by a child rapist unburdening his guilt to a bloke in a dress who’s never had a shag is there Terence? He’s attempting to get help by doing so is he son?

Did you ever consider that the sick f*ck might just have been boasting mate?

The average Australian would surmise that there are far more significant social benefits to be derived by having an adult who’s just confessed to perpetrating of child sex crimes taken off the streets by being charged and jailed than benefits that may or may not come about if the pedophile decides or does not decide to seek help to deal with their perversions.

And let’s me totally honest here Terence, the confessor can’t organise help for the middle aged male who’s just confessed to raping a twelve year old boy unless the rapist on the other side of the curtain specifically asks the cleric to can they, for if the priest did it of his own volition that would be a breach of the sanctity of the now semen stained confessional too wouldn’t it?

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And puh-lease Mr O’Gorman, don’t insult our intelligence with your deliberately misleading claims that child abuse is going to end because the tests applied by the church today are light years from what they were in the 70’s when the serial confessor and sexual beast McArdle was in the seminary in the early 70’s.

There’s a whole debate to be had about how the Australian church vets the credentials of priests it imports en-masse from from Africa, Asia and India because no Australian wants to blacken their name by signing up to a kiddy-fiddler’s club of at least a century’s standing and the Seminaries are all being sold off. I for one doubt they check them at all, because these men have already been ordained in their home countries.

But let’s avoid giving abuse denying so-called Civil Libertarians like O’Gorman an opportunity to throw bullsh*t racist allegations at a writer who’s got a brown wife and kids, and just keep it simple by asking:

What about the brother’s bro?

This dumb punk from Geebung don’t see the sexual abuse claim numbers going down as time passes my man. In fact unless this nigga’s eyeglasses have turned into mirrors overnight they appear quite clearly to be going UP!. Who’s messing with who’s truth here homeboy?

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Let’s stop being polite and just cut straight to the core of the issue Mr Tricky O’Gorman. There’s nothing civil about c*nts who abuse children. They can unburden their grimy guilt-ridden souls as many times as they feel the need- or get off on boasting about their sick pleasures, whichever the case may be – but the fact is that that sick, sad excuses for Christians can recite all the Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s and prayers of atonement in the world, but when they’ve finished playing the pious repentant sinner and the bullsh*t stops they’re still just f*cking pedophiles aren’t they?

If my profanity offends you mate I really don’t give a flying f*ck, because I can absolutely guarantee you that your absurd argument that beasts who admit to child rape in dark room should be allowed to get away with their crimes just because they’re Catholics rather than Amish or Anglican or Animist or whatever upsets me a whole lot more than a few cuss words could ever make you wince, don’t you worry about.

Where’s the liberty in a child being sexually violated? Rape’s fundamentally and inherently an act of violence,: what’s civil about it? C’mon Terry tell me., please. Explain to us all why keeping confessions to violent crimes against kids is more important than the rights and liberties of the violated minor, and then go on to expand further on the subject and present a rational argument about how and why your supposed civil libertarian reasoning applies only to Catholics.

You can’t can you?

That’s because you’re simply a half-baked hypocrite. You might well be highly skilled at raising technical legal defenses to help deviants avoid being served the dishes they so deeply deserve, but when it comes to balancing the rights of the child against the interests of the Irish/Roman church whose venal values run so deeply through your veins you have the objectivity of an atom bomb and the ethics of Enola Gay.

And that you elect to abuse the office you hold in the purportedly progressive volunteer organisation you’ve for so long ruled over like the vicar of a small country town congregation and use it as a platform to protect pedophiles, on the sole basis that they’ve confessed to a Catholic priest and not a cop, is simply a sin.

You’re a disgrace O’Gorman, an absolute disgrace, a man who’s prepared to bend and stretch and snap in half if you have to all that you so piously proclaim to hold dear. Liberty, civility, the law, even the values taught by Christ – you’ll f*ck them all if it suits your own agenda and you’ll do it without a blink.

But we both already know that don’t we counsel?

Just as sane folk know that solipsists who solemnly believe that the interpretation of Christ’s messages that have been so distorted over the centuries by Caesars, crusaders, cruel cassock-wearing despots, and dickheads who imagine they’re descendants of David is actually the truth, the light and the way, and that sin’s just a distraction that can be cleansed in an instant by a quick visit to a crank in a confessional box.

Well brother it ain’t that simple. Let’s render unto Caesar’s what is Caesar’s and call you to earthly account.

You and the closed shop of lawyers, labor hacks and half-baked fame junkie wannabe beauty queens that comprise the Queensland Council of Civil Liberties that serves as your front outfit claim that the organisation was founded for the purpose of ‘protecting and promoting the human rights and freedoms of Queensland citizens’.

Well let’s take a quick critical examination of that shall we, for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – adopted by the UN 69 years ago with Australia as a signatory -lays out exactly what the fundamental rights of Queensland Citizens are and aren’t..

Article 3 decrees that everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person. Not being sexually violated against your will is obviously fundamental fundamental to your liberty and security. Only a moron would disagree with this self-evident truth.

Article 5 declares that no one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment. Holler out as loud as you can anyone who believes that rape and child abuse is kind, human and uplifting?

Is that silence I hear in the house? It’s deafening.

Sure I’ll concede that Article 18 allows everyone he right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; and the freedom to manifest their religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.

But I’ll see your cards and raise you triple with Article 29 because it mandates that in the exercise of a person’s rights and freedoms they are subject to such limitations as are determined by law for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms of others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare in a democratic society.

And goes on to say that none of the rights and freedoms laid down elsewhere in the declaration may be exercised contrary to these purposes and principles. Then Article 30 wraps it all up with a neatly tied ribbon by concluding that no State, group or person has any right to engage in any activity or to perform any act aimed at the destruction of any of the rights and freedoms of man just described.

In other words, the act of f*cking kids is a gross violation of their human rights; the person or people who’ve f*cked them are human rights abusers; and anyone who tries to justify or conceal these c*nts crimes under any pretext whatsoever is simply an uncivil barbarian, an enemy of liberty, a frightful foe of freedom and a hater of human rights.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

I’ll throw my two cents in and say its London to a Brick that they’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing as well, and either a liar or a dangerously ignorant buffoon to boot.

I’m talking about you Terence.

Pedophiles can’t be cured by Catholic Priests you clown.

Their River Styx deep deviance can’t be cleansed by confession.

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They can’t be cured by Catholic counselors either, or non-Catholic counselors, or social workers or psychologists or psychiatrists or any type of doctor in the world.

Drugs don’t work, chemical castration’s can’t curb their inner psychological imbalance, exorcism’s an extraordinary waste of time and faith healing’s a fake.

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They’re devils dressed in suits and ties and singing psalms Terrence.  Body and blood of Christ quaffing liars, Lucifer’s on earth lit large.

Nothing can save them, not even death, and they don’t care a dime, because they’re just here for a good time and when its over they know they’ll be going back to the place from where they came and there’s no other place they’d ever rather be, other than between a little boy or girls legs feeding the ever-hungry lust that fills their black hearts as they suck the life from the little child’s soul.

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Everybody’s Free to Feel Good – No, Not Everybody – Could the Pedophile Network Have Secretly Infiltrated the Queensland Council For Civil Liberties in the 1970’s and 1980’s – They Did in the UK – Is it Possible They Might Have Poisoned the Pineapple State Personal Freedom Fighting Outfit’s Well Too?

Say it ain’t so, Joe please, say it ain’t so
That’s not what I wanna hear Joe
Ain’t I got a right to know
Say it ain’t so, Joe please, say it ain’t so
I’m sure they telling us lies Joe,
Please tell us it ain’t so

Murray Head

The Queensland Council for Civil Liberties has a long and proud history as a voice against oppressive public laws, over-extension of the long hand of the state, and the excesses of the thin blue line.

Publicly the organisation posits itself as the defender of the rights of the little man and woman, which is ironic given that it has long been controlled and run by lawyers who spend their daily lives grinding out their fortunes in the big end of town, far divorced from the hamlets of Geebung and beyond, the suburbs of BrisVegas that are the daily domains and centers of the universe of we the common people, whose ‘ignorance’ Orwell famously, and perhaps presciently. described as our salvation, prophylactic against the instructed swinishness of our political and intellectual ‘masters’.

Perhaps I am being harsh by highlighting the great gulf between the unelected benevolent libertarians who so prominently proclaim and publicise their efforts to ensure the ordinary woman and man’s individual liberty and freedoms and the subjects of their unsought charitable endeavours.

Maybe I’m a mere cynic, so worn down by the grind of the mundane suburban existence that I daily eke out 11 stations from the urbane epicentre of Vegas life that I have lost the ability to show gratitude to my betters for their benevolence in helping me to live free from oppression wrought by the local MP that I democratically elect and his or her cadre of black-suited, jack-booted thugs.

I know, I know, I should know better.

Forgive me President of the Civil Liberties Council for I have sinned. But hey fellas – no I’m not being sexist luv, they are all mainly fellas – ya gotta cut me slack.

See, I heard Kevvy saying yesterday down in the Zillman Waterholes bar at the Bunger that back in the day you buggers wanted the government to dip into consolidated revenue and give $3 million of our hard earned dough to that old civil liberty crusher Joh Bjelke Petersen to pay the legal fees he incurred in the perjury case that the shyster should have gone to jail for, and would have too if his crooked mates hadn’t hooked the jury.

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That was a bit off I reckoned, particularly when Kev went on to say that the Trog – Terry O’Gorman – the big wheel in QUICKLE – the Qld Council for Civil Liberties – went public venturing the opinion that Joh shouldn’t have to face a retrial on the charges he schemed his way out of because the poor bugger was too bloody old. For f*ck’s sake Trog he lived another 20 years! Almost as long as bloody Jesus’s whole damn lifespan!

Then I heard Kevvy say that Trog also wanted us to stump for the red-hotter than Fine Cotton Judge Angelo Vasta’s legal costs for the Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry ring in that had him sacked but saved from his fair whack of justice in the scandal that those in the know still today call the ‘When Fitzy Met Harry After the QC Pie F*cked Up’ affair.

coa

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Fair dinkum you Civil Libertarians, you’d have to be dead set pulling the mug punters chains wouldn’t you? You wanted to spend nearly $5 million of our dough on a pair of millionaire scammers who were shiftier than Sidchrome spanners in the supposed named of liberty, when the pair had respectively been responsible for giving cops the green light to bash Geebung kids protesting against apartheid, and directed a jury to bang a bloke up for murdering a little kid when he was about as guilty as Mother Teresa was of running a whorehouse.

Puh-lease!

I have to tell ya hearing these true crime tales that Kevvy was telling gave me the absolute shits, to the point that it turned me off my pink lemonade and caused me to jump on the 2.15 courtesy bus and turn tail back home to the Polo Club, which gave the missus a hell of a fright and must have given the nude water reader one too, or at least that’s who she said the streaker jumping the back fence and bolting down Buhot Street in the direction of the Gern’s butchery was anyway, and Bead Twirlers don’t bullsh*t, or at least of course not unless they’re the Pope or the Cardinal and have been given the nod by God to do whatever they bloody please.

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At that stage I wasn’t worried about underdack-less Urban Utilities underlings anyway; I was more interested in consulting the good Dr Google and checking out whether Kevvy’s mail about the corrupt couple and the Civil Liberties Council was legit. Of course it was – Kevvy’s always spot on the money – and thus bitten by the what the bloody hell bug I kept pushing keys on the wireless typewriter so I could find out a bit more about this previously seemingly kosher but now suddenly quite suss outfit QUICKLE.

I’m afraid to admit that in my haste to work out what the hell was going on I forgot to set the search parameters to ‘Straya sportsfans, so the first thing the good Doc Google delivered was a piece from a pommy website.

It damn near made me fall of my bloody home bar stool I’d borrowed a few years back from the Bunger. This is it.

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The PIE is the Pedophile Information Network, the global pre-internet kiddy-fiddler’s collective. They were known as a fact to have had members in Australia.

Osborne?

Wilson?

UQ?

Jesus H. Christ! The Poms had to be talking about Clarrie Osborne and Dr Paul bloody Wilson!

Two know perverts, one in jail and one in hell, both as a consequence of their disgustingly deviant pedophile defilement of innocent youth.

WTF?

I asked Dr Google more. This is what he answered.

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Bloody hell Doctor, tell me more.

I typed in ‘Civil Liberties Age of Consent’.

This came up.

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Huh?

Then I remembered that Dr Paul Wilson had been involved in the Council for Civil Liberties, as had Matt Foley, the former Attorney General who delivered a public eulogy at pedophile Kevin Lynch’s funeral.

And that Paul Breslin, the kiddy-fiddler who was arrested and jailed alongside pedophile police officer Dave Moore and ABC announcer Bill Hurrey in the mid 1980’s was involved with the Prisoners Aid Society, which had links to the Qld Council for Civil Liberties.

Surely all this has to be mere coincidence.

The Australian arm of the Pedophile Information Network couldn’t have infiltrated the civil liberties movement in Queensland in the 1970’s and 80’s could they? Right under the noses of the lawyers that ran outfit?

No way.

But I guess they said that in England too.

Looks like we may have a wee bit of research to do.

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Editors Note: The author and publishers make no claim that any person featuring in this article other than Dave Moore, Bill Hurrey, Paul Breslin, John Stamford, Kevin Lynch, Charles Oxley, Clarence (Howard) Osborne or Dr Paul Wilson is a pedophile or is or has been at any time knowingly involved with, supported or facilitated the sexual abuse of children. Quite to the contrary, we say without equivocation that they have not. It is however in our view a matter of public interest to examine whether pedophiles such as the persons named above or others may have secretly infiltrated honorable organisations performing public services such as the QCCL for their own nefarious purposes.